I tried counting cows last night.
Longhorns, to be exact.
When in Texas, do as the Texans do...right?
Our hotel had a few other ideas!
I was all excited to find that the room we checked into yesterday (Mr. Jenny has a few meetings this morning in Dallas, so we left San Antonio mid-afternoon) had a...
A SLEEP NUMBER BED!
Before that moment, I'd only seen those on TV.
And have you ever noticed how stinkin' rested everyone looks after they... ummm... rest in them on TV?
I set my side of the bed to 72. It felt perfect. I wiggled. I snuggled. I sighed in comfort. And about an hour later I woke up sunk wayyyy down in the shadow of the valley of the mattress.
I tried rolling toward Mr. Jenny's side of the bed so he could rescue me.
It was too uphill.
I tried poking him awake.
I tried harder.
He didn't wake.
I verified he was actually breathing, and then gave him a break.
The poor guy was tired.
And it was exhausting trying to reach the higher ground of his side of the sleep number bed.
Finally I heaved myself out of the deep ravine, over the hard edge of the side of the bed (suffering momentary flashbacks to my brief foray into waterbeds back in the 80's) and found the remote control.
My sleep number was 5?
I scrabbled around in the dark to change my number back to 72.
There was a whining, pumping sound as the bed strained to pump air into the mattress.
What was the weight rating on these mattresses anyway? I wasn't even IN THE BED.
Finally after a lot of tortured wheezing, the sleep number finally increased to 47.
I climbed back in.
And rolled back down into the much shallower valley.
I felt the mattress deflate.
I tossed and turned all night and finally reached a few conclusions.
a) I definitely need to go on a serious diet
b) my sleep number is WHO THE HECK KNOWS!!!!!
Poor Mr. Jenny. I hope he doesn't want to have a conversation while we're driving to El Paso later today!
BTW, what's YOUR number?
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